


Unwanted

by WildRose18



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: A different take on Fionn spooks, Brief mention of Gráinne's abuse and Mac Cumhaill's betrayal in the og myth, Fionn's perspective, Master is Diarmuid's descendant, Mentions of multiple deaths. Sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 10:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19904500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildRose18/pseuds/WildRose18
Summary: "I've been through multiple Masters...but you are the strangest of all."-An attempt to somewhat humanize Fionn?





	Unwanted

**Author's Note:**

> because I’m a dumbass who likes mccool as a guilty pleasure I wrote a thing. warnings now for some ptsd and mccool being a tad out of character

I’ve been through thousands, nay millions, of Masters. There were only two that accepted me, however. One was the head of the Yggdmillennia clan, during the Third Grail War. The War had of course ended in a stalemate, he escaped with the Grail and was never seen again.

2016 arrives, a mass summoning at the facility Chaldea occurs. People are clamoring for the tragic daughter of Odin or the first Berserker of old, using whatever means they can to get them. Nobody even batted an eye at my being there. Odin’s daughter, she was fickle. Rather than waste time with Masters who only valued her for how unobtainable she was, she would instead send me in her place.

I thought it would be fine. At least they would have a Lancer to aid them. However, it didn’t work that way. Oh they were furious. Some simply locked me away, others threw me into a raging fire and melted me into materials. I can still feel the flames licking my skin, devouring my Spirit Core. It was painful, reminiscent of the spear I had used to keep myself conscious when the Burner approached Tara all those years ago, but this... This was worse. I could feel their hatred, their frustration as they watched me burn. As my short-lived servitude came to an end and I would lose consciousness to find myself back in the Throne of Heroes, I would hear them lament how much materials they had gathered, or hearing the voice of _him_ screaming why. Why, why, why? Why would you do this? I would never be able to hear their response. I’d already succumbed to the pain by the time they would answer.

I had gotten used to it. I had become used to the animosity, the tired frustration. I had grown oddly adjusted to being imprisoned, to being burned. It didn’t even hurt to hear their ranting, _his_ pleading cries for them to stop. It was all just the every day. Now yes, I am a Heroic Spirit. Once I return to the Throne of Heroes, I return without scars. However, because of the Chaldea Summoning System, my memory remains, and I can easily recall the angry faces, the shouting, _him_... And yet, I’m used to it. It’s become so common when I’m summoned, that it barely even phases me anymore. The first time had been a rude awakening. A fluke, I’d assumed. The next time would be better. There wasn’t one for so long. There was some of the kind Masters who did admire me for my talents, or adored me for whatever reason. A brief respite from all the ones enraged by my presence. But I can’t remember their faces, their voices, not even their names. The ones who hated me, made me feel ashamed to even show my face, stuck to me far more than the ones who showed mercy.

But you, my current Master. You are by far the most perplexing Master I’ve had. Caster, da Vinci, she told me who you are, what you are. You’re related to _him_ , from your father’s side of the family. You even changed your last name to reflect this, to provide _him_ some form of comfort. You adore him in a familial sense, you take care of him, you’ve treated him kindly and defended his honor from those who tried to discredit or disgrace him.

I had braced myself for the anger when I was called upon. It was just so common at this point, what’s one more time? But there was no anger, no lamentation on “wasted resources”. None of it, you did something incredibly strange.

You laughed. You laughed out loud for quite a while, laughed like you’d heard the funniest joke on Earth. I was stunned, to say the least. It’d been a long time since I’d heard someone laugh. It was so foreign to me I almost thought I was hallucinating. And once you’d calmed down, I was met with simple annoyance. No hint of anger, no sign of frustration. I did see _him_ out of the corner of my eye, but he was guarded by another spearman clad in blue and a fierce glare etched on his handsome face.

You set me straight to work, not bothering with Embers or anything. You sent me straight to the storybook singularity that was Shinjuku. You were harsh but not unreasonable. You’d sent the dragon-slaying Rider with me, and all was well and good. It kept going and going - so close I would come to dying, losing myself in combat, yet we would prevail.

You took time to get to know me. You’d read my legends, you’d researched my son and heard of the tragedy that befell his mother. You’d heard of my treatment of _him_ , how I let him die because of my ego. You’d heard of Gráinne and how angry she’d been with me after _his_ death. But your rage wasn’t directed at me, not for the most part. I was bewildered. Most who came to know of _his_ demise came to despise me. Rarely ever was there someone who acknowledged that while I had done wrong, I had not been the instigator of that horrible spiral of events. That while I had proposed to her, I had actually been lucky. That he had endured mistreatment, physical and sexual assault, and that I could have been the one receiving this.

It was only after the assault on the Shinjuku Assassin’s ball that I had come to realize that I perhaps haven’t been grateful. Perhaps I had made errors in my past that could not be forgiven...that I should have realized sooner that the error was not on some external force or somebody else, but myself. The reason behind all my troubles with women was my own hubris, my follies. That _his_ death was...

So why? Why, why, why?? You out of all of them should be the one to hate me the most! You did not become angry when I appeared before you, you simply laughed! You did not lock me up or burn my Saint Graph, you put me to work in Shinjuku with Rider! You listened to me, spoke with me, was more patient with me than the other Masters I’ve had! Why, son of Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, why do you out of all my Masters forgive me?!


End file.
